Shattered Tears
by Infinity Complex
Summary: All of those smart enough to see the folly of mankind cannot help but also anguish in the sorrow. Slight LxRaito


I've wanted to post something for a long time. Unfortunately, my plot bunnies have minds of their own and become huge, multi-chapter stories in my mind (and scare me away before I can write them). I like this poetic style, my writing career began as a poet, so I have an appreciation for things like extended metaphors.

This fic's theme is: **Paradise Lost** by Symphony X (I highly recommend it, it is one of the best songs I have ever heard).

Reviews are loved.

Enjoy.

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**Shattered Tears**

By Infinity Complex

All of those smart enough to see the folly of mankind cannot help but also anguish in the sorrow.

**I. Haze**

"_L – how do you not see it?"_

The question was still there, lingering above their heads and in their minds like a dense fog. Clouding their inner thoughts, blocking their view.

It is, then, only natural that the rest of the task force had been reduced to footsteps and hazy shadows. Their faces so greatly blocked by the low-lying cloud that it left Raito thinking the dimming of his thoughts was not the only thing to blame.

The fog might as well have been real, palpable. It was the effect of L and Raito's acting, leaving the rest of the task force in the dark with only vague suspicions that something was wrong. It was the question, hindering the geniuses from seeing what lay ahead of them and instead reminding them of a scene replaying in both their minds.

"_L – how can you not see it?"_

**II. Wall**

"_It's simple, Raito-Kun, I don't open my eyes. "_

Raito could withstand many things, he had seen so much that very little evoked an emotional reaction from him. He had been incarcerated for months, seen the mass killings of criminals. He had witnessed the wild, feral look in a person's eyes when they were about to kill you (and it hurt all the more because it was his father).

Raito was proud of being able to sleep through his nightmares. He considered himself unhindered by lack of resolve or emotional strength.

He had discovered the pattern, the deaths surrounding Yotosuba, allowing the company to slowly crawl up the corporate pyramid. Raito had rushed headlong into this discovery, not looking back (or really considering looking forward). He crashed into a wall with a sharp, resounding clang.

He hit this mental, emotional wall that was his resolve and it cracked right down the middle, just barely keeping from shattering.

(But sometimes, Raito thought, that was worse, constantly questioning faith in humanity yet unable to rid himself of this misplaced trust.)

That day, Raito had found his limits.

His limits lay where human life was devalued to the point where it was discarded for the sake of profit. Where companies were willing to kill everyone in their way. When it truly became a dog-_eats_-dog world, and everyone too weak to prevent their demise was swallowed in greater schemes.

_Raito was disgusted, nauseous (and the others did not see, the fog of his recent discovery shielded his emotions from view). He excused himself (themselves – L and Raito) to use the restroom. No fog would fool L, he had sharpened his eyes to a perfect gaze that missed nothing._

_Unlike the others, L had seen. He saw Raito's plea for reprieve, shrouded in several layers of fine, fine mist, but there nonetheless. _

_Raito leaned over, hands gripping the smooth white surface. The water gave a hazy reflection of himself, but it felt wrong somehow. Too different, too…sterile. Projecting false cleanliness (false purity) and the illusion of comfort. But, looking over the tile floors and metal stalls (polished to perfection), Raito wondered why he had expected anything else._

_Expectations (trust) was only given to be betrayed._

_With that thought, he leaned over and wretched._

**III. Illusion**

_Raito did not understand his body's need to continue after everything had left him. His body was spent, but his mind and heart pulled him back into the investigation room._

_Telling him he needed to end this Kira madness._

_But stumbling out of the restroom, grabbing hold of L as his support, Raito stopped._

"_L – can we stay here for a few moments?"_

_He sat down on the sink counter, not giving the detective time to answer. He leaned his cheek on the cool glass, his hand pressed against the mirror as well. It was soothing, calming._

_Because the mirror's parallel image did not reflect the fog, Raito supposed._

_Yet, all glass brought visions of shattering. Of tiny clear shards raking across flesh and drawing beads of bright red blood. _

_Raito leaned away from the mirror, gazing at it confusion. It felt whole, unharmed under his touch. Yet it was broken, a web of tiny fractures spiraling out from a center point on Raito's reflection._

_(Right where Raito's heart should be.)_

**IV. Permanent**

His wall of determination was too weak to prop him up and propel him forward. And so Raito found security in crouches, immutable sweets, and a pair of faded jeans coupled with a white t-shirt. He needed the consistency that his detective companion had to offer, even if it was given in peculiarities and constant accusations.

It was a simple configuration: L was the constant, the world was the variable.

Constants were strong, unchangeable. They were perfect crutches. That was exactly what Raito needed right now, something to believe in.

(Even his belief only rested in the fact that his crutch would never change.)

**V. Shatter**

His heart was too sympathetic, his soul to fragile, and his mind not nearly strong enough to protect either, Raito thought.

L was his crutch, (the fact that Raito needed one made him cringe) he propped up Raito when sheer determination could not do it for him. He craftily navigated Raito around the walls that were his limits.

But Raito did not have to, nor did he ever want to, show any sort of gratitude because of it.

When it became too much to bear on his own, and the tears leaked out of their own will, he envied the detective for having the composure and objectivity that Raito obviously lacked.

And he loathed the man for knowing exactly what would stop those tears from running down his face.

(Though, somewhere inside himself, Raito knew that he was simply taking his anger out on an innocent bystander.)

And one night, Raito snapped.

"_L – how do you not see it?" Raito's back faced towards L, but the detective could tell by the shivers raking the boy's frame that he was crying._

"_See what, Raito-kun?"_

"_The suffering of humanity," Raito choked out between sobs and tears and gasping, shuddering breaths. "The way humans so readily compromise their morals to achieve superficial desires."_

_Raito's head whipped around with frightening speed, locking L in his gaze. "You should know, you've dealt with the scum of the world. You have seen the effects of this detrimental society firsthand, and dealt with the anguish of the survivors."_

_The boy's expression was marred by misery, framed by tear tracks and twisted into a look that spoke of unbelievable grief._

_He jumped off the bed, now standing right across from the detective._

"_HOW CAN YOU STAND IT?! HOW DO YOU NOT SEE?!"_

_And while he was yelling at the detective, Raito had managed to fist both hands in L's white shirt, their faces inches away._

"_It's simple, Raito-Kun, I don't open my eyes."_

_Raito gasped, his hands falling to his sides in shock. Watery eyes opened wide, and his mouth opened wider in an airless gasp that contained so many emotions (shock, disbelief, unbridled pain). He collapsed on his knees at the detective's feet, both hands covering his face and muffling the sobbs._

_(L – what happened to make you this way?)_

**VI. Warped**

_It was several months later when the picture in the mirror changed. The glass had been fixed, displaying a whole, unbroken image; it had been like that since the piece of paper in Raito's watch had been stained by a single blood-written name. But, though not shattered, the glass was tinged black._

_And Raito's eyes were glowing red, in a vision of a demon, bearing fangs in a cruel twisted smirk. His hands were blood stained, or maybe it was ink, he could never quite tell the difference._

_And the mirror called to him, in the depths of the night. (It called to Raito, not Kira, never Kira.)_

_Come, see this monster you have become…_

_His crutch had crumbled, Kira merely smirked and held the man in his arms while Raito felt the loss. He was now supported by a new wall of determination._

_(The new wall was black, with curled wire spiraling around the top and the words 'Death Note' written in white.)_

_This hideous twisted monster, his own reflection, hid from Raito behind thick, deep haze…_

(I **will** become God.)

_The notion was always there, lingering above his head and in his mind like a dense fog. Clouding his inner thoughts, blocking his view._

_It is, then, only natural that the rest of his genuine desires had been reduced to echoes and hazy shadows._

_The fog was this overpowering ideal, a perfect world, keeping the genius from seeing what lay in front of him (his morals, on a sacrificial altar to some sadistic, demonic god). It constantly tempted him with a surreal, unachievable paradise, close (so close), and yet always fleeing further away from his grasp._

_But the fog was also the thoughts that lingered from a conversation with his nemesis long ago…_

"_Raito – how do you not see it?"_

"_See what?"_

"_The anguish of Kira's victims, and the survivors left behind."_

"_It's simple, Ryuzaki-San, I don't open my eyes."_

Fin

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Okay, looking back on the finished product…

I LOVE IT!

As I said, my writing career started in poetry – always in that vague, hazy style. It's so cool to be able to write a oneshot with a semblance of a plot that way too!

In other words, vague and drabble-ish, but still with a hint of plot.

By the way, I have absolutely no idea what the title has to do with the story, I just feel like it fits.

This is my first story, so I NEED input and corrections.

Review, review, REVIEW!!!


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